Page 64 of Second Chance with the Single Dad Goalie
I let out a low chuckle, shaking my head. “Okay, that was a cheap shot.”
“No, that was strategy.”
At some point, she spins away to avoid another attack, and I step forward at the same time - too close, too fast. She stumbles into me, her hands instinctively gripping my arms to steady herself.
For a second, we just…, freeze.
Her face is inches from mine, her breath warm against my skin. I catch the faint scent of vanilla and something sweet - probably whatever they were baking.
She blinks up at me, eyes flickering with something unreadable. I don’t move. Neither does she. There’s a moment - just a second - where we’re caught in something unspoken.
The past. The tension. The familiarity.
“You good?” I murmur.
She swallows. “Yeah. You?”
“Hard to say.” I glance down between us, where her hands still rest against my arms. “You seem pretty comfortable there.”
Her lips part slightly, but instead of pulling away, she lifts a brow, eyes twinkling. “You think I want to be holding onto you?”
I smirk. “Well, you haven’t let go yet.”
She exhales sharply, like she just realized it herself, and immediately drops her hands, stepping back. “You’re insufferable.”
“Good to know some things never change.”
She rolls her eyes. “Oh, congratulations, by the way.”
“Thanks.” I give her a lopsided smirk before tossing another handful of flour her way.
Then the twins tug on my arms, giggling and shouting for more flour throwing, breaking the moment.
Whitney takes a step back, brushing her hands together. “Well, I think the flour gods have been appeased enough for one night.”
I clear my throat, running a hand through my hair. “Yeah. Probably a good idea before the kitchen is completely unrecognizable.”
She smiles and grabs a towel, tossing one at me. “Here. Clean yourself up, champ.”
I catch it easily, chuckling. It’s too easy to fall into this. Too easy to forget how complicated things are.
“Come on, guys, time to go meet the water gods and make a mess I am going to clean up later,” she says, ushering the kids out of the kitchen.
I stare at her. At them.
Am I crazy? I probably am because the thought of not wanting this to end and thinking of ways to keep her here enters my mind again for the twentieth, or is it the fortieth time?
Chapter thirteen
Whitney
Time moves fast when you’re not watching it.
One moment, I was arriving in Autumn Cove, wondering if I made the right decision. The next, I blink, and three weeks have passed.
Between taking care of the kids and keeping up with work, my days have blurred together in a whirlwind of activity. I’ve filmed more videos and written more posts about Autumn Cove than I can count, capturing its charm in a way that has my audience hooked. It’s been good. Busy, but good.
Yesterday was the annual Bloomtide Festival, and the theme was renewal, hope, and community.
